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Post by Dungeon Warden on Nov 30, 2004 15:50:45 GMT -5
How many people here write short stories or novels? I think I mentioned it before, but I have a portfolio at Writing.Com/authors/gward which contains some short stories and a novel I wrote. Some of my newer stuff is blocked to non-members, but my older stories are pretty good.
You can get a free membership if you want to comment on my stories or set up your own portfolio.
Does anyone else have short stories they want to share?
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Post by millivanilli on Dec 2, 2004 18:29:26 GMT -5
What are some of the titles i just might read one of them.
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Post by vespuleth on Dec 2, 2004 19:33:08 GMT -5
i write short stories all the time. i just usually keep them on my computer. i havent found a community that really embraces writing, as its not as obviously artistic as drawing, but if i did, id probably post more stuff...
as for the site, id really rather just get some money together and purchase a website, and upload my stuff to it.
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Post by Dungeon Warden on Dec 3, 2004 22:04:31 GMT -5
Writing.Com is a writing community for writers by writers. Everyone is encouraged to rate and review each others works and with 1000 members online daily, you are never without someone you can chat with.
If you made your own website, you're likely to only get a few comments. On Writing.Com you can find people willing to do full critiques. That alone is well worth the price of membership. Check the site out for yourself. Anyone can look around without being a member.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 4, 2004 2:40:54 GMT -5
Sounds interesting. I think I may post my short story I used for my college essay, and link to it here so you guys can read it too. It talks about Jimmy Eat World!!!
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Post by Doan the Nado on Dec 4, 2004 4:06:02 GMT -5
I read your "A Dwarf in the Dark" story. It wasn't exactly my kind of story, but it was certainly well-written. If I had an account, I would give it a 4. It would work well as part of a longer story about that Dwarf, but as a stand-alone short story, I think there were a few parts that were a bit awkward. Examples include having to stop and explain what a snake-person was in a part of the plot that should have been tense and full of action. Had it been a longer story, this could have been explained at a previous point in the story, and the mood would remain more consistent and be much more effective.
Other than problems like that (having to relate expositional details mid-story), it was a good story. The characters seemed to act pretty consistently, and you did a good job of creating a fantasy world. I especially liked the part about how he was blinded when he walked into the sun; it was a nice little touch.
I'll be sure to read a few more stories when I get the time again.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 4, 2004 4:45:40 GMT -5
I'll just post mine here, since I don't really plan on being a writer later on, but do think this short story's my best work of literature I've done thus far. For those of you that wouldn't know, the song is a Jimmy Eat World song:
“Hear You Me”<br>
“Get up. Get up. Come on, William. It’s time to go,” asserts my dad on a crisp, cool summer morning. “Huh? What?” I groggily answer. “Come on. You’ve got your first basketball game today,” he tells me. “Oh, yeah!” I excitedly reply, after realizing what he had said in my half asleep condition. Today is the first real basketball game I’ve ever participated in. I’ve been anticipating this game for quite a while now, and I am definitely feeling the anticipation now more than ever. I quickly arise and proceed to the kitchen to energize myself with a little snack before the game. I start munching on three slices of whole grain wheat bread and grab a red apple to follow. The bread is for lasting energy in the form of carbohydrates, and the apple is for quick energy from its sugar. I always eat well and light before playing basketball so I can perform at my best, and perhaps that is why I always play quite admirably. Once I finish eating breakfast, I scamper my way to the bathroom to adorn myself with my jersey. I look into the mirror, and as I see my reflection, I feel very cool and supreme in my very own new blue and white team jersey. This isn’t just a basketball game; its the basketball game, and I’m not just a baller; I’m a pro-baller. After I’m fully ready, I hastily walk to the door, only to realize I should bring water bottles to keep me hydrated during the game. I go to grab one, but think for a second and decide to bring several extras in case my friends forget their water and need some. I also seize some Zone bars for us in case we get hungry during the game. I rush out the door with my plastic grocery bag of Arrowhead water and Zone bars and hop into my dad’s Lexus GS300 to go to pick up Jeff and Robert. We ride to Jeff’s house, only a block away form ours, and he jumps in the backseat. “You excited? I can’t believe our first real game’s finally come. I’m so excited.” I eagerly tell Jeff, who simply replies, “Yeah.”<br> “You think we’ll win?” I ask him. “Yeah, I think we can. We’ve been playing basketball together for a whole two years or so now, and we’ve become so much better than we used to be,” recounts Jeff. “Yeah, we have gotten a whole lot better since we started,” I remark. “I think we can take them.”<br> “Me too,” Jeff responds. At this time, we arrive at Robert’s house and he slouches into the back seat next to Jeff. I ask him how he thinks we’ll do in the game, and just like Jeff, he replies that we’ll probably win. I think we will too. After a few minutes, we arrive at M.B.M.S., an intermediate school of Manhattan Beach where we have played basketball with each other every weekend for the last two years, and meet up with the rest of the team. They seem to be confident we’ll win too, or at least perform adequately. The ten of us embark on a car ride to where the game is being held, and Jeff, Jorden, and I ride together, while the others travel in other cars. As we’re riding to the mystery place, I curiously ask Jorden how he thinks we’ll do in the game, and he replies, “I don’t know. I think we’ll lose.”<br> “What?! I think we’ll at least do okay,” I contest. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. I wouldn’t expect to win though,” Jorden retorts. “We’ve never even played them.”<br> He has a good point; we don’t know what to expect at all. Maybe we will lose. Maybe they’ll decimate us and demolish our confidence. Maybe we’re not that good at basketball at all. Maybe this league’s all a big mistake! Oh man, I sure hope we do okay at least. “Maybe you’re right. I really don’t know what’s going to happen,” I announce. “We shouldn’t be expecting anything.”<br> I hear a familiar tune. After a few seconds, I realize my favorite song, entitled “Hear You Me,” is being played on the radio. I am amazed because I have never heard it played anywhere before except from my CD player and guitar at home. Since no one’s talking at the moment, I turn the volume up a little and ask,”Jeff, do you recognize this song? I’ve played it on my guitar at school a bunch.”<br> “I don’t know,” answers Jeff. “It’s ‘Hear You Me,’ the one that goes, ‘May angels lead you in,’ a lot during the chorus and bridge,” I tell him. “Hear You Me” is definitely my favorite song of all time. It tells the story of the death of a loved one, and the singer’s wish that the person is going to Heaven. As I am thinking about the song now, I realize that our basketball game isn’t important at all. We are all healthy, happy, and most importantly, alive, whether we win or lose this game. The song ends, and we arrive at the big game’s location, a large, red and white high school gym surrounded by flourishing, dark green bushes, next to the school’s soccer field and its parking lot. We walk into the gym proudly, for not only are we friends, we are teammates, “Wolves.”<br> The moment we enter, a woman approaches us and tells us that our game is going to commence in a few minutes. We scurry over to our bench, deposit our belongings, and quickly deliberate our starting lineup: Gus, Jeff, David, Richard and me. The five of us nervously hustle to the center of the court to begin our big game. Jeff wins the jump ball and passes it to David. David dribbles up the court and dishes it out to Gus, who then takes a mid-range bank shot and misses. The other team retrieves the ball and dribbles down the court. We guard our corresponding men thoroughly, but their ball handler penetrates through Richard and secures an easy lay-up. We’re only losing by two points; this game’s only just begun. Jeff passes the ball to David, and David dribbles up the court. I screen David’s opponent, giving David a small opportunity to drive the ball in, which he utilizes well. David jumps and precisely shoots the ball from mid-range, but just barely misses. The other team recovers the ball and hurls it to another player of theirs already on our side of the court, who pilfers an easy two points. Four points isn’t much; we can still do this. I pass the ball in to Richard, who dribbles half-way up the court and passes to Jeff. Jeff passes it to Gus down low; Gus attempts a bank shot, but gets attacked by two opposing players and loses the ball. An opposing player dribbles down the court and passes the ball to their center. Gus and I jump as high as we can to block their Center’s short-range shot, but don’t even come close. Oh man, there’s no way to block him; he’s way too tall. This isn’t good. Richard passes the ball to David, who dribbles up the court half-way and passes to me. No one seems to be on me, so I shoot a three pointer, but do so to no avail. Gus gets the rebound and launches it back up to the basket, but misses as well. The other team obtains control, dribbles down the court, and sinks a powerful three pointer. Nine to zero, this isn’t looking good at all - so much for thinking we were going to win. I can tell the others are giving up hope now. This is bad, real bad. I pass the ball in to David, who dribbles half-way up the court and gives it to Richard. Richard tries driving in, but gets assaulted by the opposing Center and passes it back out to David. David looks for someone to cut, but the key is guarded way too heavily for any of us to survive in it. I can see David’s being pressured pretty strongly by his opponent, so I come out to help him and he passes me the ball. This is too much; someone has to score something soon or we’ll completely lose hope. I see a narrow opening to dash pasty my opponent, and I swiftly go for it. My opponent whom I just evaded charges at me from behind, and another rushes at me from the front. I jump up high, ready my shot, and let the ball fly before they can reach me. To my extreme surprise, it banks in perfectly, and my whole team cheers. That definitely was a big turning point in the game, because from then on we performed quite adequately. Before I knew it, the game had ended with us losing 103 to 46, and I had scored ten of those points. After shaking hands with the opposing team, we trudge our way outside of the gym to the parking lot. I am rather nervous about the other games to come in the league and disappointed we lost by a whopping 57 points. We halt our movement to talk about the game a little. Everyone seems very disappointed by our terrible loss, except for David. “I’m really happy with how everyone played out there today, even if we lost,” David announces. “We tried our best, and so what if we lost? That just gives us more of an incentive to improve ourselves. I think we’ll be fine if we just work on some things like faster passing and learn some plays.”<br> This triggered my memory of earlier in Jorden’s car when I listened to “Hear You Me” and realized the basketball game wasn’t important. As I look around now at my teammates, my friends, I realize that even though we lost horribly, we lost together and have become closer to one another because of it. I’m alive and healthy, so why not be happy too? As I think about what David told us, I realize that others recognizing what I’ve done isn’t important. My personal achievements are what matters. Even though we failed to win the game, we tried our absolute best, did everything we could, and played very admirably, and in doing so achieved a stronger and deeper friendship between us and a new revelation about the world and ourselves. I have no regrets.
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Post by Doan the Nado on Dec 4, 2004 6:06:24 GMT -5
Pretty good there William. At first I was worried that it was going to be a feel-good underdogs-win-by-a-miracle story. Then, I was horrified when I thought it would recount every single play of the game. But in the end, my fears were not realized, and it had a good message. Themes are one of the most important elements of a story, and yours was solid and consistent.
On the negative end, there wasn't much character development, and I felt like the characters didn't have a consistent behavior. The way they talked about the game and how it was their first one made it seem like they were possibly junior high age, but the way the narrator realized a life lesson in defeat made him seem much more mature than that. I also feel like the story lacked a true climax, but in this case, it worked okay.
Overall, good theme and decent plot, but I think the characters could have been done better.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 4, 2004 6:17:36 GMT -5
Yeah, I held back on the other characters since it was supposed to be about me, and yes we are in high school. Yeah, I wanted to take it another path, since I knew (and the guy that sits in front of me did exactly what you said . Thank you for taking the time to read and tell me what you think. ;D
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Post by WarDragon on Dec 4, 2004 11:25:39 GMT -5
Here is one story i wrote when i was in school last year. and it was going to be my zelda game title but i'll do that later.
The Magical Item(the original title) Once upon a time ago there was a man who had a item. This was no ordinary item this item could grant wishes of any kind. The magical item was a blue colored vial with a white star around it. But if someone was to wish something evil to happen the vial will change its color to a dark red and a metor pattern, the holder of the item will recieve nightmares of destruction until one night a purple light like fire with a meteor will destroy that person. If the person is pure evil then the evil wish would destroy alot of people at that person's command. So one day the man wish he could fly around the world so he did. Upon flying around the world he came across a village he saw a king. This king was a prosperous man, he had a whole village full of people at his command. They loved him as much as they loved their children. The man saw how the villagers love the king so he left and grew jealous. Over a period of time his lust for power and to be love by the kingdom grew, until he looked at the vial for a long time, then he made his wish. He wished that the king was dead and he was the king. With the wish he had cast he was the new king but the people loved him just like he was the original king. He was very grateful for the wish. 6 months have passed very quickly he have been having nightmares about his destruction. He had grown very hostile to the villagers within time the villagers left. One night he had a dream that he was destoyed by a meteor. He woke up shaking and breathing heavily, sweat ran down from his face he look all around then suddenly the castle was shaking he went out side and peered into the sky. He saw a purple like fire with a meteor around it. Suddenly remembering the wish and the consequences that came with it he accepted his fate and he was destroyed by the meteor. Nothing was standing there everything had perished except for the magical item. As for the magical item it turned back into the blue color and star pattern.
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Post by vespuleth on Dec 4, 2004 17:08:49 GMT -5
William:
your story seemed a little more like an expose than an actual story. you should stay away from so many adverbs, because while you are using them to attempt to provide color to the story, you drown it out by using them so often. also, try to do less of this:
"blah" i said. "blah back" he replied.
the identification of who speaks in conversation should not always be directly identified, as most often it is understood from the writing. constantly inserting things like this dries out a story, as the reader is reading alot of unneeded information (adverbs should be understood by the tone of the story, who says something should be able to be understood by the flow of conversation, paragraph breaks, and also characterization, because if you characterize well, the reader knows who said what by what is said). furthermore, i really thought that the spill about jimmys song was a little misplaced when i read it, and even at the end of the story, thought it was an unnecessary counterpart, that took away in large part from the rest of the story. the basketball game seemed to try to build suspense at the wrong point in the game, and flattened out the story so that there was no peak or climax. it was more of an informative...
sorry if this is a rough review. all my friends say i review movies, books, and video games rather hard, so keep that in mind.
Taizon:
your story lacked detail. there was nothing to flavor it. it was almost a step by step. 'this happened. then this happened. then this happened.' you would do well to add some adverbs, adjectives, and general characterization to your story. also, you need to pay more attention to sentence structure, and proper grammer. while i got the idea of everything said, it was a pain to read poorly constructed sentences. your story lacked no emotion. you may want to work more on detail in the future.
DW:
at some point, ill read some of your work, if you want me too.
all:
please do not be offended by my reviews. they are just my opinion, and as i said, i am a pretty tough critic. but i hope that my view help in some way.
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Post by Dungeon Warden on Dec 4, 2004 22:21:23 GMT -5
You are a tough critic, but that's a good thing. No one can learn to be a better writter by hearing how good their stories are. You need to learn your weaknesses as well so you can correct them in the future.
Feel free to read and review my stories. Most of them are older stories and have been fully critiqued but please read and review so that I can get some new, helpful incites
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Post by vespuleth on Dec 4, 2004 23:39:58 GMT -5
will do, but not tonight.
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Post by The Final Rune on Dec 6, 2004 13:54:23 GMT -5
This is a work in progress . . . 1.) Cold and wet with chill to the bone Mark awoke again from his delirium slumber. Pulling himself from the frozen mis-comfort of his mud puddle he stubles toward the sound of music and the subtle light croming from the building beyond his place in the alley. I'm a red neck woman bellows out at him from the small cracks in the shoddy wood walls of the shallow country dive. He leans hard against the door, desperate to hold himself strait against the deafening ringing in his ears. The doors swing open throwning Mark into the dusty gravel parking lot. The tiny stones tear cuts and scrapes in his aged flesh, leaving little deposits of themselves buried in his skin to give him a constant ache for intruding on their tranquility. Laughter from behind him causes him to stir and turn to see his unintentional aggressor. An obviously false apology comes from the hagged smile on the piss poor woman standing before him. Mark takes a moment and gives each inch of her a slow once over before returning to her dead with life eyes. "Whats wrong sugar, cat got yer tounge?" sprouts the unsurly hag, very much past her prime for such words. A crimson falme ignites within Marks tattered mind. His eyes roll back in his head and he begins to shake with a violent force. The bar hag, suddenly very afraid, makes a move to run back inside. She reaches for the handle only to pull away in pain from the red hot iron. Her hand is scarred, a severe burn, the kind you'd wear for life. All the noise inside the hick hole settles and a dead quite descends on the small country shack. Her palms pressed together the woman turns back to Mark to see his shaking cease with a broad grin, full of yellow teeth, smiling back at her. His flame an inferno, Mark turns and starts to walk away, leaving the hag with her scar and the day later leaving the police with a curious mystery. The locals found the hag sitting in the bar holding her fresh burn surrounded by nothing but an empty bar full of ash and the alluring smell of over cooked bar-b-que. WARNING: The content in the story below may be unsuitable for some, especially those who are easily offended by "vulgar" sexual references. 2.) All his life Mark had been the continual victim of abuse. His mother died in childbirth leaving the baby Mark in the care of his abusive and mentally deranged father. During his childhood his father would burn him with matches and cigarette lighters while making him perform fellatio on his miniature prick. He would accuse Mark of stealing from him and beat him with his gold-plated-penis-gravestone belt buckle. Mark’s father would find any excuse to humiliate him and attack him. The dishes were dirty, there’s dust on the TV, its raining outside, and god forbid Mark ever open his mouth or his father would promptly shove his swollen pencil in there to shut him up. By the time Mark had reached the outer stages of puberty he finally realized he’d had enough of Daddy’s sour toy and planned to make his escape. Never much of a genius his father got wind of his little deviation and beat him near to death. The old man's only mistake was thinking with his small brain instead of the big one. Looking up at the perpetrator of his abuse through his blackened bruised eyes, Mark bit down with a massive bite, severing the cock from the that brandished it so stupidly. Blood sprayed over Mark’s face as he removed the lifeless thing from his mouth. His father sprawled on the floor in agony desperately hanging on to his now micro sized member was screaming in pain. Mark, now sure of his determination took all the advantage he could. Every tear, every fear, every awful thing his father had done swelled up in him. He began kicking with every ounce of muscle his teenage body could muster. Two weeks later, when his father repeatedly didn’t show up for work, the police were called on to go give a good will check up on him. Upon entering the house the arid stench of rotting flesh assaulted the officers. One losing his lunch the other just running back to the squad car, the officers eventually entered the house to discover Mark sitting cheerfully in the bloodied entrails of his mangled father. The only thing he said to the officers was, “Can I interest you boys in a blow job?”<br> Note by Doan: This is not a warning by any means, and I welcome stories like this as long as they have a good message or some kind of mature purpose. I only ask that they be marked as I have marked it above.
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Post by vespuleth on Dec 6, 2004 19:01:32 GMT -5
1)
delirium slumber = incorrect word usage. it would be 'delirious slumber'. delirium is a noun.
I'm a red neck woman bellows out at him from the small cracks in the shoddy wood walls of the shallow country dive
this sentence needs serious restrtucture. if 'im a redneck woman' is the name of the song, it needs to be identified appropriately. if someone is actually saying something, it needs to be made appearant.
The doors swing open throwning Mark into the dusty gravel parking lot
and throw would fit a little better, for some reason. (edit: i know why it would have fit better. its because of the necessitation of a comma in the way you have written the sentence.)
Laughter from behind him causes him to stir and turn to see his unintentional aggressor
i dont like this sentence, although im not sure why. it seems off balance.
Mark takes a moment and gives each inch of her a slow once over before returning to her dead with life eyes
again, this sentence needs to be restructured. im not sure what your trying to say. is 'dead w/ life' a description of the eyes?
Whats wrong sugar, cat got yer tounge?" sprouts the unsurly hag, very much past her prime for such words
tongue, not tounge. and statements most always start a new paragraph. also, refer to what i told william about noting who makes a statement. at this point, you have done a fair job of describing this environment, and knowing who said this is fairly obvious. however, im not going to say that your sentence is bad, because it offers the perfect amount of description and flavor. im just saying keep that in mind. also, are you sure its 'unsurly' and not 'surly'?
She reaches for the handle only to pull away in pain from the red hot iron
is the doorhandle made of iron? if not, a simile would be more effective here then a metaphor.
Her hand is scarred, a severe burn, the kind you'd wear for life
i understand what your trying to do here. but there are too many interruptions to the sentence, and the last ruins the mood of the sentence. might i suggest:
Her hand is marred by the burn, a scar that she would carry for the rest of her life.
All the noise inside the hick hole settles and a dead quite descends on the small country shack
redundant. if all the noise settles, of course quiet descends.
Her palms pressed together the woman turns back to Mark to see his shaking cease with a broad grin, full of yellow teeth, smiling back at her
first, im going to rewrite the sentence. then im going to give my opinion of it.
Her palms pressed together, the woman turns back to mark, to see his shaking cease with a broad grin, full of yellow teeth, smiling back at her.
this sentence carries far too many thoughts to me. id suggest breaking it down into two. further more, that last little quip (smiling back at her) is both redundant and sours the flavor of the sentence. id suggest cropping it.
His flame an inferno, Mark turns and starts to walk away, leaving the hag with her scar and the day later leaving the police with a curious mystery. The locals found the hag sitting in the bar holding her fresh burn surrounded by nothing but an empty bar full of ash and the alluring smell of over cooked bar-b-que.
wow. good ending. first id suggest that rather then saying 'his flame an inferno', id rebuild the sentence so that this could be cropped into a metaphor of mark himself (an inferno of power and rage, mark starts to walk away, leaving the hag w/ her scar). further more, id suggest leaving out the part about the police and curious mystery. it takes away from the setting.
some overalls:
rather then using so many adjectives, get out a thesaurus and look up some more specific words. some examples (not ones in your story):
instead of 'a trusted friend', 'confidant'.
this suggestion works w/ adverbs as well. the english language is powerful, and there are many words that almost mean the same thing, but carry a slightly different stress, and these are the flavor of a story.
your sentence structure needs a little work. some of them are choppy, and tend to ruin the flow of the sentence. you stress alot of things w/ interjections that require comma seperation, and this interrupts the story.
you show a very good writing ability. to further it, id suggest you learn the power of placement, and when its better to convey things w/ metaphor and simile.
one final note: your comma proliferated story suggests that you are unsure what the topic or primary target of each sentence should be, which suggests you may try to convey more than one thought w/ each sentence. really look into your sentences, and find out where the readers attention should be focused, and put it there. remember, you are in total control of the story.
you show some definite talent. dont drown your work w/ the same things. remember that everything works to stress a subject, but only for so long. to many reoccurances will cause the reader to begin to ignore it all together.
on to the next story...
2)
you open very well, in both stories. these straight to the point openings are a personal favorite. i like a story that says 'i wont bore you w/ setting details, ill just set the story as i write'. its my favorite type of opening, as you will see if i ever post any of my own material. (this isnt critiquing, but i figure a good work needs praise)
During his childhood his father would burn him with matches and cigarette lighters while making him perform fellatio on his miniature prick. He would accuse Mark of stealing from him and beat him with his gold-plated-penis-gravestone belt buckle. Mark’s father would find any excuse to humiliate him and attack him. The dishes were dirty, there’s dust on the TV, its raining outside, and god forbid Mark ever open his mouth or his father would promptly shove his swollen pencil in there to shut him up
this carryon should be covered a little differently. everything you did in the first sentence, that straight to the point, no setting setting sentence should be used here. after such an abrupt intro, this long expose (pron exposay) clashes. also, remember that the readers imagination is far more powerful then any words you can put on paper.
Never much of a genius his father got wind of his little deviation and beat him near to death
poor sentence structure. try to get away from the 'yoda' style writing of making sentences backwards. you do it far too much.
Mark, now sure of his determination took all the advantage he could.
Mark, now sure of his determination, took all the advantage he could.
this sentence needs to be reworked. (took all the advantage he could = took the advantage = took the offensive ??)
Two weeks later, when his father repeatedly didn’t show up for work, the police were called on to go give a good will check up on him
paragraph break.
One losing his lunch the other just running back to the squad car, the officers eventually entered the house to discover Mark sitting cheerfully in the bloodied entrails of his mangled father
again... write your sentences in the order they should be read in. using this tool a few times, it works. you overdid in the first and second stories, and it looses effectiveness this way.
overall: not my kind of story, but i dont attack the subject. you start and finish well, and then seem to stumble over the matter inbetween. you seem to be struggling for content w/ this one, and also make all the mistakes of the first story over again.
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do not let these critiques offend you, or their length scare you. the better a story is, the longer my critique will be, as i get to focus more on the small errors, rather then the big glaring faults. good work, and i hope to read more.
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all (including finalrune): if you do not want me to critique your stories, please let me know. i know i give hard critiques, and i wont be offended if you wont want me to go through your work. i will probably still read it, because, as a writer myself, i like to read others works, and gain writing ideas from them.
and one of these days i may post some of my work, and let you go at it like rabid wolves. (im not a very good writer).
but please let me know, as i dont mean to offend. and dont be offended by my critiques.
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Post by The Final Rune on Dec 7, 2004 11:01:02 GMT -5
Wow, that's a lot of insight. Are you an english major? I never expected such response from my story. Its all a little rough, but then I made the whole thing up in my head and haven't bothered with a rewrite yet. I printed out all your suggestions and will put them to good use. Thanks Ves!
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Post by vespuleth on Dec 7, 2004 11:22:06 GMT -5
no, im not an english major. im out of college, if you consider that i ever went in the first place. ive just been writing for a while, and some of the things i had to learn from not so kind reviews, i hope to pass to others. not that im a good writer by any means. anyways, sorry that it was rough, but i am glad you are putting them to use. remember that most of it is merely opinion, and take creative liberty in deciding what stays and what goes. good luck. oh, and no problem on giving the review. i like to read what people write, and i try to help where i can.
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Post by NASH7777 on Dec 7, 2004 15:49:38 GMT -5
Constructive Criticism doesn't hurt...
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Post by WarDragon on Dec 8, 2004 17:10:59 GMT -5
Your criticism doesn't hurt me but inspire me to make it better than it was.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 8, 2004 18:38:31 GMT -5
Eh, a lot of what you said I also thought already and wasn't sure of what to do, so I didn't mind.
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Post by WarDragon on Dec 11, 2004 11:40:52 GMT -5
how many stories have all pf you written. right now for me i'm going to write some sort of a book.
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Post by vespuleth on Dec 11, 2004 13:18:08 GMT -5
ive written innumerous short stories and poems, and papers. the longest paper ive written is 47 pages, and published in a scientific journal about monte carlo programming. the longest 'poem' ive written is around 8 pages, and its supposed to be an epic. i have a poem published in the 'eternal portrait series' anthology of poems, called a risk worth taking. as far as short stories go, ive got alot, but none have ever been published.
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Post by Dungeon Warden on Dec 11, 2004 21:55:49 GMT -5
I wrote one long poem about six pages long (but the stanzas were short), and I have nearly finished a novella and started a full length novel. I have written many short stories and short poems as well.
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Post by vespuleth on Dec 12, 2004 15:29:56 GMT -5
oh, dw, i read your story (the dwarf one) and here are my thoughts:
i appreciated the simple sentence structure, but it got to the point that your story almost lacked detail.
the dialogue was somewhat dry.
there are really only two advantages to a first person story, detailed thought process and emotional awareness, and you skipped both of them.
i dont know if thats a recent work or not, but it was pretty good. id like to get a more recent story so that i could give a more fair view of your writing abilities, if you have one.
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Post by Dungeon Warden on Dec 12, 2004 17:43:37 GMT -5
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